Forgiveness and Pain

These characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I appreciate the opportunity to borrow them from time to time. My deepest thanks to the very generous and gracious MMADfan and Squibstress for their inspiration, advice, patience and time. Especially their patience and time!

Chapter 6 : Forgiveness and Pain

Early March, 1943, Hogwarts Castle

Alastor Moody had been elevated from the Quidditch pitch by most of the Gryffindor team and carried, high atop arms and shoulders, to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade after Ravenclaw and Gryffindor performed their ceremonial handshakes before walk-off. Minerva was met by her brother and niece and eagerly joined them for the celebration down in the village. Though Minerva and her cousin Sara were generally the two garnering most of the attention after victories, Alastor was getting the lion's share this time after playing a shut-out game. Minerva usually thought Alastor a bit of a show-off; however, she was genuinely pleased to see him blushing under all the attention.

He deserved the attention. Rarely, in professional or academic leagues, were shut-outs seen. In fact, Minerva couldn't remember a single occurrence taking place after the first fifteen minutes of a game. A lucky Seeker would, on occasion, catch the Snitch ten minutes or so into the game, long before either side had much time to score. The game today, however, went on for nearly forty-five minutes, with Moody blocking at least two dozen scoring attempts.

The Gryffindor Keeper had been truly remarkable, having saved against some very crafty shots in less than ideal weather conditions. Sleet and freezing, biting winds caused his hands to cramp, his goggles to fog over, and slick frost to cake over his broom handle. Even the Ravenclaw team was impressed. Their captain, Aaron Ollivander, who was also Keeper, came over to join the celebrations, offering Alastor a firm hand shake.

Alastor, however, got the impression that Ollivander's attention wasn't truly centered on him, nor on offering Gryffindor his respect, but on Captain McGonagall's charms. Aaron glued himself to her side, taking the seat directly to her right, wedging between Minerva and her brother after asking to join them at the table. Between Ollivander and Minerva's relatives, Alastor could hardly get more than two seconds of his captain's coveted attention.

In the celebratory mood that had swept over the entire tavern, Marcus McGonagall surprised everyone by ordering the entire Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams a round of Butterbeers. Minerva and Sara each gave Amelia slow test flights on their brooms outside in the freezing air, allowing their niece to steer while riding double with an aunt. All in all, Minerva decided it was the best after-game celebration in all the time she'd been at Hogwarts, and she thanked her brother for bringing Amelia out for the game.

When Minerva and Sara returned to Gryffindor's table after seeing Marcus and Amelia off, Minerva explained that she had hospital-wing duty that afternoon and excused herself from the festivities.

Walking back up the narrow Hogsmeade street, Minerva thought back to the previous evening just before dinner.

When she had approached Professor Dumbledore's office, after he suggested meeting before dinner that evening, the door was open, and three men in Ministry robes were standing in his office, speaking with him in hushed tones. Albus saw Minerva appear just outside the door and excused himself from the small group to address his student.

"Not to worry, my dear. It's just a cramp." He winked again, stood up straight, and headed back into his office.

As Minerva ascended the incline on the road that led back up to Hogwarts Castle, she tried to remember if, in the past six years, she had ever seen her Transfiguration professor indicate pain of any sort. She couldn't quite put her finger on the reason, but seeing her mentor as anything but indestructible alarmed her.

"Minerva," she heard distantly as she came out of her thoughts. Without turning around, she dismissed the call, chalking it up to the brisk north wind distorting sounds. She pulled her heavy Quidditch cloak tight around her as the frigid gusts bit at her skin, and kept walking.

"Minerva!" This time the call was much louder and close behind. She didn't recognize the masculine timbre at first and turned around, only to feel her stomach drop.

Tom Riddle was hurrying up the sloping road toward her, his cheeks bright pink from the cold.

"Minerva, I wanted to apologize," he said quietly as he took the last few steps toward her. Instinctively, she stepped back and felt for her wand inside her cloak pocket.

Without any warning, Tom's wand slipped from somewhere inside his sleeve, and he made a few swirls toward an object he held in his opposite hand. Minerva whipped her wand out and thrust it into his face, only a foot or so from his nose. Tom froze and stepped back slowly.

"I was Transfiguring this stick into a rose. A sign of peace," he said somewhat flatly, though Minerva was sure she could see the faintest tinge of alarm in Tom's face.

Minerva lowered her wand only after seeing a small group of students heading up the road only twenty yards away and decided he was unlikely to attack her in such a public area. Bile rose in her throat, and adrenaline pumped through her veins as she tried to control her emotions. She could feel static electricity pulsing over her skin and heard the tell-tale crackling sound, knowing perfectly well this wasn't a result of the dry air. Her heart pumped wildly in her chest, and she mentally chastised herself for her fear.

"A sign of peace, Tom? You honestly expect me to believe that?" Her tone was stern and unwavering, she was thankful to note. She found it easier to control her fear if she let her anger take over.

"Yes," he replied, his face emotionless. "Why else would I apologize?" With her wand lowered, he resumed his Transfiguration spell, turning a dead twig into what appeared to be a yellow rose and holding it out to her.

Minerva looked from the rose to Tom and back again, and her father's voice crept into her thoughts.

If God can forgive us of our most heinous sins, can we not forgive each other?

She was ashamed to realize, though she knew her father spoke from wisdom, that she was unwilling to forgive Tom Riddle. She knew she was deciding not to forgive him, and in this, she was directly defying God's will. Before this moment, however, she had not been confronted with even the idea of forgiving Riddle, yet now, it had been thrust upon her, ready or not. For a moment, while brief, she was ashamed, although she wasn't sure if she was more disgusted with disrespecting her father or with disobeying God.

Then her anger took over, and all shame and regret were gone.

"Oh, I can think of several reasons you'd stand here asking for forgiveness," she replied coldly, her brogue thickening. "And none of them are honorable."

Tom wasn't expecting that response. For several seconds, he stood staring at her, staring into those intense green eyes, still offering the yellow rose. This isn't going to be easy, he thought to himself and lowered the arm that was holding the rose. His other arm already rested at his side, though he had not released his wand.

"I can't explain what came over me, Minerva, but I am horrified at my actions." His tone was soft and might have seemed genuine if Minerva hadn't seen him switch from the kind gentleman he portrayed himself to be into the beast she remembered from the dueling incident.

Minerva thought she could easily explain what came over him...what drove him to attack her...but she kept her ideas to herself.

"I want nothing from you," she replied as the group of students approached the bend directly behind the Slytherin and Gryffindor pair. She recognized them as half of Ravenclaw's Quidditch team, and she turned from Tom and joined their group, doing her best to appear at ease and make small talk as they walked back up to the castle.

Tom did not move other than to step to the side of the road to allow the other students to pass and watched Minerva retreat up the road and, eventually, out of sight. He looked down at the rose in his hand and crushed it, enjoying the feel of the thorns as they bit into his hand and drew pinpricks of blood. After tossing it to the side, he smiled as it burst into flame, burning into a tiny pile of ash.

"That's right, you cunt, run back to Dumbledore. You can't hide behind him forever," he muttered to himself and turned back toward Hogsmeade.

Tom took only three steps before Alastor Moody materialized, seemingly from thin air after uttering a Finite and canceling his Disillusionment Charm. Having already put his wand away, Tom was too slow on the draw to react to Alastor's right fist as it sailed through the air and connected with Tom's nose. A loud crunch was audible just before Tom was knocked backwards on his arse, lain prone with Alastor standing over him.

"I heard what you said after Minerva walked off, you miserable excuse for sheep tripe," Alastor said as he looked down at the fifth-year Slytherin. His nose and mouth bleeding heavily, Tom had the gall to grin up at his attacker, showing off a bloody smile.

"I see Minerva's still got you on a tight leash, Moody. Should I be more concerned with rabies or fleas?" Tom retorted sarcastically and rolled over just in time before Alastor's boot could meet with his groin. With pit viper dexterity, Riddle flipped his wand toward Moody's face, casting an offensive spell that Alastor had never heard before.

"Expecto fervens piper."

Immediately, Alastor was blinded and choking on a noxious spray that shot out from Tom's wand and covered the upper half of his body. Feeling his trachea constrict and his lungs burn, Alastor dropped to the ground and clawed at his throat. In desperation, Alastor tried to utter the spell to cancel the curse but could only manage weak gasps, and soon, panic began to take over, consecutive with his inability to breathe.

Alastor couldn't see Tom stand up, quickly hiding his wand in his cloak pocket, nor could he see the swift approach of Professor Merrythought who, thankfully, had just been walking down from the castle. Moody had already lost his sight and had almost gone deaf as he drew closer and closer to losing consciousness. His last few thoughts were of his younger sister, who idolized him, and his ailing grandmother, who raised them both, and the absolute disgrace that he was to die thanks to some Slytherin pariah who didn't deserve to lick the mud off Alastor's boots. And besides all that, he was dying a virgin!

Before dropping completely into the realm of unconsciousness, Moody heard a familiar voice close to his ear. It was a woman's voice, which soothed him unexpectedly. Once he started understanding some of the words she was saying, he instantly recognized the speaker and felt a huge rush of relief. The constriction in Alastor's throat released as his hearing returned, and he could hear Professor Merrythought speaking to someone in a tone he'd never heard from her before. She was angry. The Gryffindor then heard the audible crack of someone Apparating and instructions given to a house-elf to take Riddle somewhere. Alastor's pulse coursed through his ears as his blood pressure stabilized, and he thought he heard Tom try to say something just before another loud crack shot through the air. Only after he felt his Charms instructor's hand on his forehead, along with several soft incantations that he did not recognize, did the pain return to his eyes with a vengeance. It felt like his face was on fire...hot pokers skewering his eyes. The pain was so intense that Moody didn't even care that he was blind.

"Mr. Moody, do not be alarmed, I am Levitating you up to the hospital wing...consider yourself safe with me." Alastor felt Professor Merrythought's hand on his shoulder simultaneous with the slight shifting here and there of the turbulence of her Levitation Spell.

"Professor Merrythought ... I'm..." Pausing, he coughed heavily a few times before continuing, "I'm blind." Alastor choked out the last few words, his swollen, constricted throat making speech difficult.

"I am aware, Mr. Moody, and I'm sure Madam Alumno will be able to handle any hex or jinx that Mr. Riddle may have thrown at you." Alastor didn't quite think this was going to be so mild as a hex or jinx, but he said nothing other than to ask one more pertinent question.

"Tom ..." His voice was very weak, but he found he could speak without coughing too badly if he paused between words and spoke very slowly. "Where ... is ... Tom?" Alastor couldn't help it, his close call with what he thought was death had shaken him badly, and he reached across his chest with his left hand to find Merrythought's hand and grasped it for comfort.

Professor Merrythought's words were both informative and comforting and made Alastor smile inwardly.

"I called a house-elf to escort Mr. Riddle straight to the Headmaster's office ... before being transferred to the hospital wing. As you may already know, he looks to have a broken nose...perhaps a few teeth as well. He's nowhere near us now and will have no way to hex you anytime soon, seeing as I have his wand."

Alastor, delirious due to intense pain, and understanding just how close to death he had come only minutes before, wondered momentarily if Professor Merrythought was an angel. He had never been so thankful to a teacher for catching him in the act of breaking the rules. His emotion suddenly got the better of him, and his damaged eyes started shedding reluctant tears while his chest heaved with sobs.

"Thank ... you ... Professor ..." He paused to control his breathing, especially now that his sinuses were swelling due to his emotional state. "You ... saved ... my ... l..." That was all he could get out before a heavy sob erupted, and he turned his head to his left side, embarrassed for being such a nancy boy.

Merrythought smiled and gripped his shoulder harder, giving it a gentle shake.

"Think nothing of it, lad. I've sworn an oath to the Four Founders of Hogwarts, to this school...all employees must take the oath before performing their duties at Hogwarts, be it the Headmaster himself or the gardener...and Hogwarts has an extensive memory, mind you ... I pledged to do everything in my power to protect the students of this legendary establishment. I hardly think casting a Finite for a nasty hex could be considered divine or heroic."

Alastor couldn't see that, after her speech, she smiled down to him. It wasn't until several days later that he pondered why Professor Merrythought would choose such an odd description...the word divine...in her explanation to his emotional proclamation.

A few moments later he heard surprised gasps and excited murmurs as Professor Merrythought led him through the castle doors and up to the hospital wing. Madam Alumno's thick Castillian was instantly reassuring.

"¿Quien es, Galatea?"

"Carmen ... this is a British school, and I, for one, do not speak the king's Spanish!" Merrythought chastised. "I've got a very sick boy here...blind and having great difficulty breathing, not to mention significant pain .... so please...speak English!" Galatea kept her hand on Alastor's shoulder, almost subconsciously, as the mediwitch swiftly ran diagnostics and darted toward the medical cupboard.

By the time Alastor Moody heard Minerva McGonagall enter, gasp, and rush across the room, Madam Alumno had given him two spoonfuls each of pain and relaxation potions that were leavening his breathing and helping him relax. Professor Merrythought left only after the potions had begun working, giving Alastor a reassuring pat on the arm before departing. Minerva was given a briefing on the patient and instructed to apply burn ointment to Mr. Moody's face and upper torso while the mediwitch searched medical texts for treatment on burn hexes to the eyes.

After several minutes of researching, the mediwitch performed a variety of healing charms to Alastor's eyes with no perceived effects.

"¡Maldito, esto no trabaja!" She swore in aggravation before returning to her bookshelf for extended research.

Minerva began folding up Alastor's school robe, as he had to be stripped to the waist for burn treatment, laying it on a nearby shelf, and lowered her voice.

"What did Riddle hex you with?"

Moody's answer was groggy, an obvious effect of the potions.

"I dunno ... never heard it before." His eyes, unable to focus, stared straight ahead...past Minerva...which she found both disturbing and distracting.

"Do you remember the incantation? Any of the words maybe?"

Alastor's face broke into a crooked smile.

"Why? You want ta try it on me next," he chuckled, drooling a bit when he did, "when I catch you alone on prefect rounds?" Minerva stiffened at his glib reaction to her question.

"I'm trying to save your vision, you inebriated addlepate!" she whispered scornfully. "Do you remember anything he said?"

"Er, what I do 'member ... eh ... dun think yeh'd want ta hear ... think I broke 'is nose ..." And the rest of his words were too muddled and slurred to understand. Alastor's head dipped on his pillow, drool running down his chin, and Minerva realized the potions would make any information-gathering impossible.

Considering the options, Minerva looked across the room at the frustrated mediwitch pouring over an old tome and had an idea. Glancing quickly around the hospital wing and finding it otherwise empty, she made her way towards the stout, aging woman.

"¿Señora, ayudaría a conocer el texto exacto de la maldición?" Though Minerva knew of few other students who were fluent in Spanish, she took no chances that she'd be overheard and almost whispered her inquiry.

"Sí, por supuesto, pero nadie recuerda lo que se utilizó," answered the mediwitch.

I think I can remedy that, Minerva thought.

ϮϮ

Translations from Spanish to English.

"¿Quien es, Galatea?" = "Who is this, Galatea?"

"¡Maldito, esto no trabaja!" = "Damn, this isn't working!"

"¿Señora, ayudaría a conocer el texto exacto de la maldición?" = "Madam, would it help to know the exact text(words) of the curse?"

"Sí, por supuesto, pero nadie recuerda lo que se utilizó." = "Yes, of course, but no one remembers what was used."